


Pride

by bisexualtrixiefranklin



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: @ bbc: deliver, F/F, honestly this ship is so great????, i hope you enjoy it!!, in fact more content full stop, just a little drabble i've had in my head for a while, my fav bisexuals, pls, there needs to be more fic abt them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 02:35:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9858164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualtrixiefranklin/pseuds/bisexualtrixiefranklin
Summary: "Barbara feels a great deal of pride, not for  herself, but for those she loves." Set in the 2016 Christmas Special.





	

Pride in oneself, Barbara knows, corresponds directly with the Christian value of humility, and is a deadly sin, a capital vice in the Christian church. However, scripture, she recalls, does not say anything about having pride in others, in friends and in loved ones.

Barbara feels a great deal of pride, not for herself, but for those she loves. She feels pride in Patsy's strength, her ability to still love even as her past haunts her; in Delia's never-ending optimism, her ability to smile through even the deepest of wounds; in Phyllis' kindness, her ability to console even the most inconsolable of mothers; and, especially, in Trixie's endless resilience, her ability to build herself back up from rock bottom, to face even the most difficult of situations head on and come out even wiser and stronger than before.

And now, as she watches the rising sun dance along Trixie's features as she sleeps, holding her hand under the thin blanket, Barbara is overwhelmed by the amount of pride she feels for her in that moment, feels it manifest in the back of her throat, in her chest, her sleepy eyes crinkling as she smiles softly at Trixie's sleeping form.

* * *

_Seeing Trixie in scrubs was something Barbara wasn't prepared for. She'd walked towards the blonde as Sister Julienne and Nurse Crane were scrubbing up, taken her hands, squeezed gently._

_"Are you_ sure _, Trixie?" she had asked, and Trixie had nodded._

_"I have to," Trixie had swallowed, and then her forehead had creased from behind her scrubs, "I'm so afraid, Barbara."_

_"You're a good nurse, Trixie - the best I know, in fact," Barbara had whispered, dropping her voice so that only the two of them could hear it, "If anyone can do this, it's you."_

_"You'll stay with me? I can't do it without you."_

_Barbara had smiled, softly, determinedly, squeezing Trixie's hand again, this time tighter._

_"Of course - I'll be right behind you, the whole time."_

_And then Trixie had set her jaw, and turned to a waiting Sister Julienne with the anaesthetic._

_And then, after what had seemed like an eternity but was perhaps less than an hour, she had been holding a screaming newborn, and she couldn't keep the tears of relief, of thankfulness, of pride, out of her eyes._

_She'd watched Trixie slip out of the room after baby had been successfully given to the mother, looking like she might topple over at any moment. Phyllis had caught her eye from the mother's bedside, and nodded, and, within seconds, Barbara had dropped her bag and practically ran out of the theatre._

_It had taken her a moment to see Trixie, a shuddering breath giving away her location, and Barbara's heart had swelled with pride, with_ love _for Trixie in that moment, and she could only manage a few words before her emotions got the better of her, before the reality of what could've happened, what_ would've _happened that night if Trixie hadn't been strong or brave enough to perform the surgery overwhelmed her, and then they were both crying, clinging to each other, and Barbara almost had to choke back the three words she wanted,_ needed _, to say more than anything._

* * *

She wants to say the words now, to whisper them into Trixie's ear, to pray, to _hope_ that Trixie thinks, feels the same way.

But she doesn't.

She likes this - whatever it is - the way it is, almost like a never-shared but always there secret in the humid African morning. And it _is_ a secret, Barbara thinks as she tucks a lock of Trixie's fringe that has escaped her loose braid behind her ear, something that she would never, could never, share with anyone, let alone Trixie herself. Something unexplainable had passed between them last night, a kind of understanding, but Barbara knows that, even now, she could never admit to Trixie how she truly feels about her, how every time she so much as looks her, the temperature of her face skyrockets, that the slightest amount of contact they have leaves her skin warm. First of all, Trixie would be absolutely mortified, completely embarrassed by Barbara's spontaneous confession - although, if she's being completely honest, Barbara wouldn't mind seeing Trixie's pink blush spread across her face and down into her collarbones - and secondly, and most dauntingly, admitting it to Trixie would be admitting it to herself, and Barbara doesn't know if she's ready to do that to herself yet, if she's ready to put labels on whatever this feeling inside of her is.

Because it's not _love_.

She _knows_ it's not love.

It would be ridiculous to even think, to even consider, that it could be something so simple as _love_.

But lying beside Trixie, limbs entangled, watching the light of the half-risen sun on Trixie's eyelids, she almost - stupidly, naïvely - labels it as love.

In the morning, she knows, everything will be different. Trixie will wake tearful. Barbara will smile as she watches her regain her composure, putting on a brave face and a cheery smile as she sets about her day. Barbara will go back to Tom. They'll pretend, both of them, that everything is exactly the same as it always has been - but then Barbara will catch Trixie's eye from across the ward, and her heart will shoot from her chest to her throat, and she will be reminded that nothing, not between the two of them at least, will ever be the same again.

But for now, in these last few precious moments before daybreak, before reality starts to exist again, she allows herself a glimmer of hope, allows herself to dream as Trixie stirs beside her.

In the morning, it will be an immense feeling of pride, and _pride_ is not the same thing as _love_.

In the morning, it won't be love.

But right now, curled up next to each other, in the quiet stillness of sunrise, as Trixie opens her heavy eyes and smiles softly at Barbara, it just might be.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaaaah, how great is this ship? This is my first fic on this site, so I really hope you all enjoyed it<3
> 
> (also, my tumblr is beatrixfranklins!!)


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